


Stealing First

by Mangokiwitropicalswirl



Series: Season  6 / Season 7 arc [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:27:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8380336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mangokiwitropicalswirl/pseuds/Mangokiwitropicalswirl
Summary: What does Mulder make of Padgett's statement that "Agent Scully is already in love"?





	

It takes her 42 minutes to find her way to the ball field. 

He begins to wonder if she'll come, and he tries to decide how much he cares whether she does. Okay, he cares. He cares so much more than he'd like to admit. But he's already bothered her once on this beautiful Saturday, luring her down to the dim office to go through old news clippings. She'd shown up with ice cream, flirty and casual, so he's pretty sure she is in a mood to humor him. 

She'll come.

But the longer the minutes tick by, he wonders if maybe he's asked too much for one day. There were boundaries Scully had once asked him not to cross -- don't bother her on weekends, after 11 p.m., or when she is on vacation. 

He laughs. He'd failed at all of those in the first year of their partnership, maybe even during their first case. Still, he never knows if maybe today is the day she'll just say, "Enough," and his attempts to insinuate himself ever more completely into her private life will fall short. "It's official," he thinks, for the second time that day, "I am a horse's ass."

42 minutes is too much time to think when there's no other sound but the buzz of the field lights and the thwack of the bat and the thump of his heart as he twists in his stance, again and again. Despite what Yogi says, "How can you think and hit at the same time?" Mulder's thoughts wander and he answers them hit by hit as the dusk deepens.

"Do you believe love can make a man transform?" Thwack

"Maybe you'd better start paying a little less attention to the heart of the mystery and a little more attention to the mystery of the heart." Thwack

"Agent Scully is already in love." Thwack Thwack Thwack

He had read Padgett's novel, and as much as it disturbed and infuriated him to witness the other man's obsession, he recognized those prurient fantasies. He harbored them too. He felt called out. Even though she'd protested, "Of course not," when he'd asked her if Padgett had really gotten inside her head, Mulder thought he might have in fact gotten something right.

Which is why he is now tearing the rawhide off every ball that's hurtling toward him, sending his desire far into the outfield, as if he can keep batting it away forever.

She's not coming.

Even though he's pretty sure he knows who Padgett meant. Even though he felt her startle, then slacken, then claw at him desperately when he'd found her bloodied on the floor. She'd been unable to get close enough, gripping him as if she had wanted to climb directly into his chest cavity for safety, removing his own heart to make space for herself. As if he hadn't already done that years ago. 

Even though he has told her he loves her and he is certain she loves him, she still isn't here. He still has to find an excuse to invite her to join him. There are still so many things they're not saying. They're inseparable, but so very separate.

But she has never cried the way she did after Padgett; she has never before let him see just how fragile she feels. He pauses and leans on the bat. All this business with Padgett feels as if someone has suddenly rewritten the script they've been living. Love is not a word they use -- they traffic in trust. But if trust means tearing your heart out and offering it up, love means returning it mended and whole.

He considers that she may not realize how much he desires her. Just as he for years lived on the assumption that her love was maternal or friendly. Only recently has he seen her jealous, seen her dismay at his attention from other women in Kansas, on the internet, or in the halls of the Hoover building.

"Agent Scully is already in love." Thwack He connects fiercely again, a liner to left field, far enough for a triple or an infield homer.

It's darker now and the stars have come out over the diamond, the floodlights sharply dividing the cathedral-like space of the field from the soft summer darkness. In the distance he hears a car door slam and the clip-clop of boot heels on asphalt. Over his shoulder he can hear her sauntering up to the backstop, and he anticipates the playfully annoyed tone of her voice before she opens her mouth. 

She came.

"So I get this message marked 'urgent' from my answering service " she cajoles him, "from one Fox Mantle, telling me to come down to the park for a very special, very early or very late birthday present. And Mulder, I don't see any nicely wrapped presents lying around, so what gives?"

He keeps the rhythm of his swing going a few moments longer as a smile creeps up in his eyes. He knows her. She'll feign disinterest and annoyance at whatever crazy plan he's come up with. But he knows her. She wouldn't be here -- at this baseball field, in the basement, in this life -- if she didn't want to be. She's making him work for it.

"You've never hit a baseball, have you Scully?" he says, even as he doubts it. She grew up with brothers, in base housing, playing games with the neighbor kids. He's almost sure she once talked about having played softball in high school. But this is itself a little game they're now playing.

"No, I guess I've found more necessary things to do with my time than slap a piece of horsehide with a stick," she retorts, daring him to convince her, just as she always does.

He knows her. She's been trying to get his attention. What was it that Dales had said that he needed? To pay more attention to the mystery of the heart? 

"Get over here Scully," he growls, his voice low and inviting, as he beckons her toward him with a nod of his head.  
____________________________________________________________________________

They hit for nearly an hour, at first with Scully cocooned in his arms as he gently guides her. He is almost surprised how she lets him. He catches just a hint of raised eyebrow when his hands curve over her hips, the soft pressure moving her ever-so-slightly closer to his left thigh. But soon enough she softens and they find a rhythm. Eventually he sends the ball boy home and he tosses her some easy pitches that she sends sailing into the sky. He swears he can see sparks trailing behind each arcing fly ball, but it's just the glittering reflection of her eyes in the floodlights as she watches them go.

He had told her it's the game that silences all his nagging concerns, that it's the moment of connection between the wooden bat and hurtling ball that mutes the questions he's unsure how to answer. The truth is, it isn't the game that quiets him, it's her presence, as it has been for six years now. She shapes his frenetic obsessions until his mind can stop reaching, stop running.

They quickly gather the balls from the outfield before the floodlights shut off for the night. Mulder lugs them in a wire basket towards his car while Scully collects the bat and her coat from the back of the bench where she'd laid it. They are companionably quiet as they arrange things in the trunk. Scully dusts a few twigs off her coat sleeves before slipping it back on. Turning to thank him, her gaze flutters down for a minute, unsure of how to treat a moment that feels like the end of a date. Mulder interjects just as she starts to speak.

"I brought beers," he half mumbles, motioning to a cooler in the backseat, "if you want."

"Really?" she looks at him questioningly. "Um, sure."

Mulder yanks the cooler onto the pavement and lifts the lid to reveal several bottles of Shiner Bock peeking out from beneath ice chips. He hands her one, smiling at the quizzical expression that has taken over her demeanor.

"Um, where should we sit?" she asks, grasping the neck of the bottle Mulder has just opened for her.

"Hop on up," he motions, "I always think beer tastes best if you drink it while sitting on the hood of a car."

"You're not serious?" Scully protests even as she climbs up on the fender. "I feel like I'm back in high school, hanging out after the drive-in movies."

"Well, who doesn't like a birthday gift that makes them feel younger?" Mulder replies, clinking his bottle against hers. "Mission accomplished."

"But seriously Mulder, what's this all about?" Scully scoots higher on the hood and stretches out, lifting her suede coat so it won't rub against all the dust. "Does this have something to do with your research today?"

"Maybe," says Mulder, "I guess Arthur Dales said a few things that got me thinking."

"Such as?"

"It doesn't matter." He turns toward her and takes a swig of his beer. "I just realized we haven't had much fun lately."

"Since when do we have fun, Mulder?" Scully furrows her brow.

"We have fun," Mulder responds quickly, "or at least we used to." He thinks for a moment. "Florida was fun."

"You mean delivering a baby during a hurricane while battling a flesh-melting sea monster is your idea of fun?"

"Well, when you put it like that," he laughs. He take a deep breath and pauses, looking straight ahead. "San Diego was fun," he says, his voice deepening meaningfully as he stretches his legs out long on the hood.

"Right," Scully rolls her eyes and pulls her knees up toward her chest, "and what was that? A sentient sludge pile enforcing for the HOA?"

"No, I mean, having the X Files back was fun," he explains, thinking back to the way they had worked together scouring that McMansion for evidence. Remembering Scully in her sweater set and soft-curled hair. Scully sinking ever closer to him as they sat on the loveseat at Gogolak's. Scully shirking his arm off her shoulders after the move-in party. Scully emerging from their shared bathroom, her face covered in green goo. At the time, he knew she'd done this defensively, keeping a wall between them. But in reality it had just seemed more intimate, exactly the kind of thing a wife would do. He wonders what he would have done if she'd taken his teasing "We're married now," comment seriously and slid into the bed next to him. He wanted to know; he still wants to know.

"Being with you was fun," he says as he brings his beer up to his lips and takes a quick gulp.

Scully turns toward him and meets his eyes for the first time since they've sat down. She raises that questioning eyebrow, the one she uses to say things like, "Mothmen? Really?" As if the idea he might find her fun is as farfetched as the cockroaches that ate Cincinnati.

"Being with you tonight was fun too," he continues, almost avoiding her gaze.

This is not the kind of thing they say to each other. Glancing over at her, he recalls her soft giggle as they gripped the bat and the way she seemed to melt into him as his nose brushed her cheek. They've always said more with hands than with words, but this time, he doesn't want any misunderstanding.

He sets down his beer and moves to interlace his fingers with her hand that is pressed flat on the car hood between them. Although they've been casually trespassing into each other's personal space all evening, this deliberate move startles her and she jolts upright as his hand covers hers and his thumb begins making tiny circles on the back of her hand.

"Mulder, wha--" she begins before looking directly at him again. He says nothing but continues the slow tracings of his thumb, moving now to her wrist and the inside of her arm. A shiver courses through her. His eyes deepen, he tries to capture the image of her at this precise moment in time, as if he were painting her picture. Scully feels her stomach tighten and more shivers radiate along her spine, but he doesn't look away.

"Get over here Scul--" Her lips are on his before he can finish her name. 

She has surprised him. But he makes the most of it, bringing his other hand up to cradle the back of her head and pull her in. He feels her mouth grasp for his lower lip, and he tightens his grip on their interlaced fingers, pressing his mouth into hers. They kiss softly, slowly, for a few moments, the only sound their quickened breaths and the faint buzz of locusts distant in the trees.

Mulder feels her lips part and he moves to slip his tongue inside, his pulse beginning to race, when a bright light flashes across them. Another car pulling into the lot bumps over a divot in the road and the headlights bounce wildly up to the treetops and back down. Scully sits up, pulling away with a sharp intake of breath. As he beholds the slight panic in her dilated eyes, Mulder thinks, "Like a teenager caught in the backseat at the drive-in."

Before she can protest or formulate another excuse to "oh brother" this all away, Mulder hoists himself off the hood and snatches her wrist to pull her along with him. "Come on," he urges, abandoning their near-empty beer bottles on the top of the car as he begins jogging toward the grove on the opposite edge of the lot.

"Mulder, wai--!" Scully starts as she nearly trips over her feet trying to keep up.

"Hurry Scully!" he exclaims with all the urgency of being chased by black helicopters in a corn field, chased by soldiers through a West Virginia mine, chased by uncountable nameless men through an uncountable maze of train yards and warehouses and labs year after year after year.

"Mulder!" Scully exhales, flushed, when they begin to slow down in the dim light under the trees. "What on earth are you doing?!"

"This." 

He pushes her roughly up against the trunk of the nearest tree and crushes his mouth down on hers. He lifts her slightly with an arm around the small of her back, his other arm curving along her spine to cradle her head. Scully melts in his arms and lifts one knee to press her foot against the trunk giving her the leverage to snake her arms up around Mulder's neck as she tilts her head back, her hair snagging on the ridges of tree bark.

They pick up exactly where they left off, Scully's mouth opening immediately and Mulder's tongue diving in to stroke along hers feverishly. Scully loses track of her hands in his hair, tangling her fingers through it as she whimpers, pulling him closer. Mulder tightens his hold on her waist and groans as she opens her knee a bit allowing him to draw her fully up against him. "Scul--ly," he draws out her name in a melody and moves in to deepen the kiss again. 

"Oh god," Scully groans into his mouth as the tips of her breasts make contact with his chest. Mulder moves to languidly kiss down the side of her neck, his warm breath tickling her ear as his lips mark their way towards her clavicle. Scully tips her head back further and lets her eyes drift closed as a tell-tale warmth begins to seep up from between her legs. "Oh god," she breathes out again as his tongue peppers a trail of kisses across her upper chest.

"I'm flattered," Mulder huffs against her neck, "but I'm not that good." He kisses his way slowly up the other side of her neck and settles his cheek against hers with a low laugh. Scully's smile widens so he can feel it against his skin. 

"So is this what they call stealing first?" she teases as she slides her hands down to rest them on his chest.

"Scully," he scolds her as he leans back to look her in the eye, "I'll have you know that stealing first is a phenomenally rare occurrence. Statistically it only happens --"

"Once every six years?" Scully interrupts, her eyes gleaming, just as they had been when she'd taunted him with that ice cream bar earlier that morning.

"Well now, that's hardly fair," Mulder protests before leaning in to kiss her softly again. "I seem to recall a certain moment in a hallway last summer. And exactly which one of us was it who told you he loved you?"

"Shut up, Mulder," Scully stops him short. Using both hands she tilts his head, she smoothes her thumbs across his cheeks and kisses him slowly before pulling back to look in his eyes. "It's just I was beginning to think it was going to take the end of the world for us to ever get here."

"The end of the world, huh?" He grins teasingly. "Is that another way of saying you'll only do me if I'm the last man on earth?"

"Do you?" Scully raises that eyebrow again, smirking. "Is that what this is about?"

Mulder feels her momentary hesitation send a cold shot through his bloodstream. She cannot possibly think this is just about sex? Well, it's not not about sex, he thinks. But he needs her to know. He pauses, "Scully, I --"

She shakes her head and trails her thumbs from his cheeks down to his lips before he can say anything else. Her eyes drop to watch as she paints little strokes across his swollen lower lip. Mulder is silenced by the tenderness in her gaze, the delicateness with which she is tracing his mouth with the pads of her thumbs, as if she's been struck blind and is now trying to learn him by touch.

She knows. They're not going to say all this now, but she knows. He watches her eyes as he opens his mouth and gently grazes one thumb with his teeth before snaking his tongue out to mark her fingertip.

It's like striking a match. He sees a wild look rise in her eyes as her pupils dilate and she sucks in a breath. All the blood in his body flares up and heads south. He's been in a heady state of arousal for most of the evening, but at this moment he is swiftly and almost painfully hard. Scully is pulling his arm toward the ground as she slides down the trunk of the tree, dragging him with her.

He lands on his knees and she leans forward to meet him, their heights now a little more equal. With one arm Mulder gathers her to him again, bending her back at the waist with the ferocity of his kiss. His other arm works its way inside her suede coat and begins to slide it off her left shoulder.

"Get this coat off," he whispers hastily as he pulls it off one arm.

"Hmm," Scully whimpers as he works. Realizing what he's doing, she protests, "Don't get it dirty! I just got it today!" 

"Scully," Mulder growls, "I will fucking pay for the dry cleaning."

Her hands busily slide themselves up under his jersey, running up and down his smooth abs, cupping his pecs, dragging her fingertips across his nipples as she kisses his neck.

"God! Shit, Scully!" he jolts back as her warms hands wrap around his torso and then down to cup his ass. He is going to lose it and they're both still fully dressed. Scully covers his mouth with hers and the force of it bends him backwards, pushing him onto the grass.

Scully's palms flatten against his chest and he pulls the other sleeve of her coat free causing her to lose balance and topple onto him as he tosses it aside. He catches her as she crashes down onto him, his hands curving beneath her breasts before wrapping his arms all the way around her, rolling them both to their side. Their kisses are frenzied, the sound of their quickened breathing mixes with the creaking of crickets and the far off rushing of cars. Scully nuzzles into the damp musk of Mulder's neck. The simple smell of him so close dizzies her. Her senses flood with the feel of him twisting her down further into the sweet-smelling cut grass.

Mulder is awed at how small her body feels beneath him. She occupies so much psychic space in his life, it is startling to realize how small she is now that she's almost entirely encompassed by his body. Propped up for a moment on his elbows, he gazes down at her, her hair splayed out on the grass in an auburn halo. He would label her adorable if she weren't simultaneously so damn sexy he thinks he might lose his mind.

Scully looks up at him meaningfully and coyly angles her knees open enough for him to stretch out long between her legs. Mulder matches her stare and shifts his torso slowly up until he's hovering over her center. He bends down to kiss her again as her hands stroke along his back. Shifting his weight to one arm, he winds the other up under her shirt to the underside of her left breast. Scully's breath catches in her throat as he flicks one thumb slowly over the peak of her bra. Then he lowers himself until she can feel his erection, hard and ready, settling where she most wants it.

"Jesus, Scully," he hisses as they make contact, watching her as her eyes roll back in her head and she simultaneously moans, "Oh god, yes." He swears he can feel her dampen even through denim.

He is kissing his way down her chest now, meeting with the resistance of the top button of her shirt when again they're suddenly bathed in bright headlights. A car turns in to park, the deep thudding of somebody's muffled bass stereo fills the lot, and the voices of half a dozen laughing teenagers echo across the field. 

"Shit," Scully exhales, pushing herself up as Mulder rolls off and lays next to her. They both fall silent for a moment, chests heaving, as the teenagers' voices get louder and then fade away. Scully is softly panting and slowing her breath. Mulder throws an arm across his forehead and feels around with his other hand to clasp hers. They lay flat on their backs looking at the stars through the tree limbs until their heart rates return to something approaching normal.

He lets out a long sigh, breaking the silence, "I suppose, realistically, we probably don't want to have done this for the first time in a park."

"True," Scully replies, turning her head to give him a sly smile. "Though I'm pretty sure I would not have stopped to care if we had."

Mulder smiles and takes in her appearance, hair disheveled and flecked with blades of grass, stains emerging on the elbows of her clean white blouse, her chest and neck flushed, her lips plump and bee-stung by his kisses -- he can hardly believe the woman lying here now is his same usually-buttoned-up, by-the-book partner. 

Taking stock of the condition of her blouse and coat, Scully chuckles, "What was it you said about paying for my dry cleaning?"

"You're not going to start holding me accountable for things said in the heat of passion, are you?" Mulder replies as he stands, offering his hand to pull her up.

"Are you assuming this is going to be an ongoing problem?" Scully teases, not mistaking his choice of words for a moment as they make their way back to their cars.

"Are you implying it isn't?" he parries back with a grin. 

"Well, it did take six years to get this far. How am I supposed to know if I'll have to wait another six for a repeat performance?"

Mulder tightens his grip on her hand, pulls her close and leans down, his warm breath caressing her ear, "Scully, if I had it my way, I would not even wait six more minutes."

Scully tosses her head back and laughs at his playful earnestness with the kind of free, open laugh he has only heard from her once or twice. He can't help himself. In one swift motion, he scoops her up by the waist and throws her over his shoulder. With her hair shaking loose over her face and her little ankle boots kicking in front of him, Scully shrieks, somehow managing to sound both annoyed and delighted. "Mulder! What the hell are you doing?!"

Plopping her down on the hood of his car, he steps between her spread legs and begins kissing her deeply again, although this time his hands move freely over her body, cupping one breast as he nibbles the nape of her neck. Scully wraps her legs around him and pulls him flush against her, the evidence of his reigniting arousal pressing into her thigh.

She groans and exhales as the throb of desire between her legs returns. "I swear to God, Mulder, are you trying to recreate high school? Because all we need now are some cops to haul us out of your backseat."

He waggles his eyebrows in response and cocks his head toward the aforementioned backseat with a gleam in his eye.

Scully pauses, her eyes bright and laughing, before she brings one hand up to cup Mulder's cheek. He sees her hesitation and turns his head to kiss her palm without shifting his gaze. Sighing, Scully confesses, "God knows I want to, Mulder, I should hope that’s obvious."

"And your point is?" he teases.

She caresses his cheek with her thumb and tries to match his gaze. "It's just... I want to do this right. Not accidentally, not..." she stutters, "it's you... me... I mean...". Her eyes glisten, brimming with the depth of things she can hardly speak.

"I know," Mulder strokes her hair and draws her into a hug, "I know. Me, too." He nuzzles into the soft hair above her ear before pulling back to kiss her gently on the forehead.

"I should get going before you manage to talk me into this," she laughs, sliding off the hood.

"What makes you think there would be talking?" he murmurs. He drapes his arm around her waist as she walks toward her car, his hand closed over her hipbone and pulling her against his side.

Turning to face him with her back against her car door, Scully fixes him in her gaze, grabs both his hands and stares up at him. "This. Is. Happening," she promises, "but not tonight." She bends up on her tip toes, smiling, and gives him a peck. "Now go."

Mulder bends and cups her head in his hands, kissing her solidly, tenderly. "Okay. But you should be warned, there are still so many sports left for me to teach you. I mean, there's touch football, wrestling..."

"Tonsil hockey?" Scully interrupts as she wriggles her way into the driver's seat. "Next time, Mulder, maybe I get to teach you something."

"As long as there's a next time, Scully," he replies,"you can teach me anything you want."


End file.
